Flaubertie was a spoiled princeling who lived in a small castle and was always bored. Taking advantage of his mother being on a mini-cruise, he walked into the kitchen and asked the goody-goody cook to bake him a little cake. The cook, a chubby, middle-aged woman with a goofy face—whom Flaubertie found to be a hottie—replied as soon as she saw him:

“Get out of my kitchenette, you little dweeb, or I’ll tell your kinglet of a father you’ve been prowling around the kitchen like a vulgar petty thief!”

“Not even a tiny one? Pretty please…” he asked, faking sadness.

“Nope. Where do you think you are? Starbucks? Like one of your preppy cronies? Your mother—the most queenly woman I’ve ever met—was pretty clear about your petit déjeuners.”

“How about some baby corn with a few droplets of honey on top?”

“I said no! Just because you’re the queen’s little boy doesn’t give you the right to act like a bossy-pants!”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just a brat,” she blurted out.

Then Flaubertie stared into the cook’s eyes with a glare. “Fine. Either you give me something to eat, or I’ll throw myself off the balconette!” he cried.

“You mean the one overlooking the streamlet?”

“Duh! Does the castle have another balcony?” he asked, confused.

“Not that I know of,” replied the cook disdainfully. “Okay, weirdo, enough is enough. Let’s make a deal: I’ll give you your breakfast if you take over walking your doggy until your mother comes back. Deal?”

“It’s a deal!” he agreed, “but you’ll also have to tell me a fairy tale at bedtime.”

“If I have no choice… Okay, kiddo, go fetch the doggy’s leash and I’ll get you some leftover milk from yesterday and some little star-shaped cookies to make up for it.”

And Flaubertie ran out of the kitchen, happy as a clam. And that’s the end of the vignette!

Thanks for reading.🤴